


birds that retreat

by monogalya



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Restaurants, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-02-22 06:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monogalya/pseuds/monogalya
Summary: Yuri starts working at one of the city’s finest restaurants. He immediately hates it because the other newbie shares a name with him and because he has to tolerate infuriating, dumb, rich people for six straight hours a day. But Yuri stays at the restaurant because he needs the job, he needs the money, and (what might as well be the only reason he works there) the bartender is really attractive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler, please know this. I am fucking unoriginal. I’ve never worked in a restaurant, so I know nothing about people’s work ethic, habits, jargon. I really am just basing it on what I read in Sweetbitter. That book is my main reference.
> 
> I do not plan on updating regularly. Just forewarning you guys.

They’re all gathered together, the entire gang staring through the glass separating the kitchen and the dining area, watching the two men sitting at a table in the center of the room under the massive unlit chandelier. The sun’s natural light is doing a good enough job illuminating both levels of the restaurant, but soon the lights will come on and the almost-empty seating area will be filled with dining guests.

For now, they lounge around in their aprons and work shoes. Leaning against refrigerators stocked with farm fresh cream and butter. Perched on counters meant for preparing wagyu beef and handmade pasta. The pantry full of expensive and elusive ingredients remains forgotten behind them as they chatter.

“Viktor sure seems excited to interview this one. He’s…”

“Chubby?”

“A bit.”

“He looks like he’d be a blubbering mess if he screwed up in front of Chef.”

“Cute though.”

“Sure. But he won’t last long here.”

“Sara! Did you just call that boy cute?”

“Mickey. Every single time—”

They all promptly shut up when Lilia walks in. “You all know that we open the doors to the guests in just a few hours,” she says. “Yet not a single one of you has started with prep. Stop wasting time.”

Immediately they all hop off the counters and scatter across the kitchen. Everyone has work to do. Not a single person is not busy.

* * *

Otabek walks in late, removes his jacket, folds it, and stuffs it along with his sunglasses into his locker. He then steps into his work shoes and rolls up his sleeve.

“You’re late.”

Lilia stands tall in front of him. Otabek acknowledges her, then continues to roll the other sleeve. He knows he’s late, and it’s the first time this year that it has happened, but he also knows that Lilia has other matters to take care of. She walks away not even half a minute after the confrontation and is quickly replaced by JJ.

“Otabek!”

Again, Otabek barely lifts his gaze.

“Sucks that you were late. Viktor was interviewing potential employees. You missed out on some pretty hot babes that came in. It’s a shame Viktor chose to hire two dudes.”

Otabek sees it coming and can’t even bring himself to roll his eyes. They both know that JJ has a girlfriend, but he is bound to say things like that regardless.

Otabek stands and makes his way out of the locker room.

“I’ll see you after closing,” JJ calls after him. “We can party with the others again!”

Otabek nods and that’s all JJ gets out of him.

The coffee station is right next to the bar and Otabek starts there today. He wipes down the station, cleans the cups and mugs, and makes sure there is enough of all of the essentials. When he finishes, he does the same with the bar.

He checks the clock. Almost opening time, meaning the servers, back waiters, cooks, and cleaners are all busy prepping in the kitchen. Then he remembers that there are new workers. He didn’t ask JJ about them. He is curious though.

* * *

Yuri doesn't start working as a server immediately. He is just a back waiter for now. He needs to learn from all these older people. Mila is teaching him first. The redheaded hag gives him a run-down of his job, tells him what to do and how to do it. Points at different people standing at various stations and tells him what they do here. Shows him to his locker and hands him some work clothes.

Mid-way through, a woman with dark hair pulled into a tight bun enters. Yuri watches her. The second she steps foot in the kitchen everyone acknowledges her presence. She receives their attention without verbally demanding it. There is silence in the room for the first time since Yuri arrived. The woman directs orders at certain people. She commands and they follow. The woman leaves a minute later, her eyes landing for a mere second on Yuri.

Mila throws Yuri a smile. “That’s Lilia. She’s basically queen bee around here.” As if reading his thoughts, she adds, “I wouldn’t even dream of getting on her level for now. You’ll have to work really hard just to get her to properly acknowledge you. Long way to go, Yura.”

Yuri bares his teeth and tells her to shut up.

* * *

“Pick up!”

“Picking up.”

Yuri sweeps the scalding hot plates off the counter and is off. He exits the kitchen and walks in the dining area. The restaurant is fairly packed as usual, and the chandelier glows, scattering light in all directions.

Table 31. All the way on the other side of the dining room. Of course he is serving that table, holding a plate on each hand for that disgusting, affection-displaying couple. The fact that the bottoms of the plates burn his skin only further fuels his rage. Still, he contains that fury and makes his way across the width of the restaurant, carries the plates in his hands with the poise of a whatever plate-carrying god exists, and lays them on table 31.

When Yuri returns to the kitchen, he finds dark pink marks on his palms. He drops his arms, brings them back to his sides where they are supposed to be when they aren’t carrying dishes. The burn prints will fade.

* * *

“Hey Otabek.”

Otabek looks up and sees Mila in her server attire holding a tray by her side.

“Table 49 needs a Negroni, a gimlet, and two cosmos.”

Otabek nods. He pulls gin from the shelf and prepares the drinks, only glancing up when Mila speaks.

“Look at Yura.” She sighs and turns her head back to face Otabek. “He’s one of the newest, but he’s already got the four-plate-carry down. So young, too.”

Oh. He is reminded again that there are new back waiters. Otabek gazes at the dining area.

“Who is he?”

“Blond hair in a ponytail, heading towards table 24. Yuri Plisetsky. He’s been here almost two weeks. You haven’t met him?”

Otabek shakes his head. He finds Yuri, balancing three plates on one arm, the final plate in his opposite hand. His arms are extended like wings, movements graceful like a bird’s. He stops at a table and drops off all four plates with elegance.

“Exquisite, isn’t he?” Mila says.

Otabek doesn’t answer. He finishes up the final cosmopolitan and pours it out of the shaker. Mila places the drinks on her tray. With a smile and a “thanks, Otabek”, she whisks the drinks away to table 49.

* * *

Everyone in the kitchen hears the plates crash onto the spotless tile floor. No one gasps, no one says a word. Chef Yakov stares in disbelief. The plates are shattered, and under the fragments, the lamb.

“Idiot!” Chef screams.

Yuuri Katsuki’s voice trembles. “The plates were burning me.”

Then Chef barks some more, yelling about how the plates weren’t hot at all and that he doesn’t care if Yuuri’s flesh burns. Yuuri rushes out of the kitchen and Chef Yakov grumbles to himself, then starts the lamb orders again.

Someone cleans up the mess. The expediter goes back to expediting, fry cook returns to frying, pastry chef recommences dusting raspberry souffles with sugar. Yuri resumes positioning the plates on his arm.

On his way out to serve table 27, Yuri catches a glimpse of Yuuri with his head in his hands. When Yuri returns, he sees Yuuri running his hands through cold water. The marks are gone, and Yuuri is drying his hands and his tears, heading back into the kitchen, and responding to his call.

“Pick up!”

“Picking up.”

So that’s the other new guy. 

* * *

“25 needs a gin and tonic.”

Otabek looks up, and thinks, _finally_. Finally, this one is running beverages. Young. Green eyes. Blond hair in a ponytail. Closer now than he was the first time he saw Yuri, Otabek can see braids in his hair and dark circles under his eyes.

Otabek turns away to grab the gin from the shelves, just before Yuri says “What are you gawking at, asshole?”

“He wasn’t gawking, Yuri.”

“Shut up, hag!”

Mila doesn’t listen. “Hi, Otabek!” she says with cheer. “A Moscow mule for Ms. Winters, as usual, and vodka for her date.”

Otabek reaches for two more glasses and continues to listen as Mila speaks.

“She’s really starting to go for younger guys. Like, fresh out of university young.”

“Fucking gross,” Yuri says.

Otabek slides their respective drinks to the bar top at the same time.

“Thanks, Otabek.”

Yuri isn’t as warm, or polite, or talkative. He lifts the drink onto his tray and glides away.

Otabek’s eyes follow his movement, as if it was natural for his gaze to linger on him.

“Okay, now you’re gawking,” Mila teases. She smiles knowingly, then leaves.

Not gawking, just lingering, Otabek tells himself. There’s a difference.

* * *

Yuri hates the stairs. Especially the ridiculous spiral staircase that connects the floor level dining area to the mezzanine. Two gangly servers moving in opposing directions can easily collide if they aren’t paying attention to where they are going. Its narrow width isn’t practical for busy nights when order tickets are spewed from machines, lamb and duck are fired up and rushed out to the dining room, and guests are ushered in and out of the restaurant. What’s worse is when guests decide that they want to be insufferable pricks and choose to take the spiral stairs and further congest the already confining path when there was another set of perfectly fine stairs closer to the entrance, further from the chaos of the kitchen. It was a wider flight of stairs, pristine and elegant, polished and swept regularly, perhaps too often.

“A greeting,” Viktor said when describing the restaurant to Yuri one day. “It’s one of the first structures that fill the guests’ line of vision. It welcomes them and invites them to push away any previous preferences against being seated in the mezzanine.”

Yuri agrees with the old man for once. Those stairs do have that effect. They are classic and timeless, and yet some dimwitted guests gravitate towards the spiral stairs that were meant mainly for staff. Why these people insist on being idiots Yuri can’t understand.

Yuri desperately wants to express his irritation by yelling at them in a mix of English and Russian, but part of the job is tolerance. Tolerate the guests’ fussiness. Accommodate. Anticipate their expectations and meet them, no matter how unideal they are. Every fork and knife is nudged into parallelism and every napkin is folded with lined-up corners and right angles. Never let their glasses empty. Keep them filled with water, wine, whiskey, vodka, whatever their poison is.

Yuri is free to pour water into guests’ glasses. He is allowed to bring beverages from the bar to the tables. But he can only steal glances as Seung-gil introduces a wine with a full preamble. Can only watch as he lets the wine pour into their glasses and later stops the flow with a single practiced twist of the wrist. Can only eavesdrop as Seung-gil’s continues his monologue and allows the guests to experience the wine he describes the drink off the top of his head. It doesn’t sound like a script. It’s not monotone and it’s not plain textbook knowledge. He gives the wine a voice, but even he doesn’t do it any justice. Lilia comes closer to achieving that, everyone knows, and it’s why the more demanding regulars will only dine with her as their server. She has been at the restaurant longer than most of the workers. She’s levels above everyone else. Mila was right. She’s queen bee.

* * *

“Hey, slow down.”

Mila reaches out for Yuri. He whips around to fix a glare on her and her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“What?” he snaps. “I need to start setting tables and-”

“No. You’re running beverages. Without me.”

“Huh?”

“Sara most likely isn’t going to make it, so I’m bussing tables today.”

“You said that I wasn’t done with training.”

“You’re not.”

“Then why the fuck am I running beverages alone?” he almost shouts. He sees Chef Yakov out of the corner of his eye and is glad he didn’t.

“All that’s left is the barista training. Get that done and you’ll be fine for the day. I’m sure you can do it.”

Mila gives him a thumbs-up. Yuri gives her the middle finger.

* * *

There’s a lot of hand, arm, and wrist motions involved in barista work, Yuri notices. He watches with eyes determined to perfect an espresso in a scant hour because that’s all the time given to him. Because that fucking hag just decided to throw this all upon him with hardly any time until the restaurant opens. To make things worse, it’s the fucking weekend.

Yuri scans the space and takes note of the several towels set on and beside the espresso machine. Each one has its purpose, he is told as Otabek grabs yet another towel and fixes it to his apron so that it hangs at his hip. Yuri is distracted for a split second, for he notices that Otabek has nice hips.

Otabek treats the coffee station like a shrine. It’s organized and Otabek does routine checks on the water temperature and boiler pressure. He purges the groups and nozzles and inspects each piece of equipment for cleanliness. Yuri doubts any other worker is as meticulous as Otabek is, not even any of the other bartenders and baristas. Yuri also realizes that Otabek has gorgeous arms.

Every item is there for a reason and has its own place, Otabek explains. Cups are stacked with rims facing the ceiling and arranged in rows atop the espresso machine, jugs and pitchers kept next to the coffee grinder in size order, spoons and brushes on the other side of the machine with the syrups directly behind them lined up against the wall, and the tamper next to the knockbox.

Otabek talks, Yuri listens and learns. He realizes that this is the first time Otabek is speaking to him. Yuri has talked to him, but he has never said a word to Yuri. Of course, he has heard Otabek’s voice before. Sometimes he passes by the bar and hears him talking to someone. Most of the time it’s after closing when the others gather at the bar for drinks. Otabek pours everyone their final drinks before they leave to go home or to party or to do whatever the fuck they do. Yuri doesn’t know because Yuri doesn’t care to join; he doesn’t think he can put up with JJ and his typical dumbass behavior. Lilia isn’t there either, so Yuri doesn’t see anything to gain. But as he listens to Otabek speaking right now and watches him craft drinks and just _stares_ at him, he realizes that there may be a benefit to staying for drinks after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other restaurant employees will make appearances here and there (they'll be the skaters in the anime) but I don't think they'll have significant roles. Keeping Otabek and Yuri the main focus of this fic.


	2. Chapter 2

After training, Otabek stops talking to Yuri. Even though Yuri is the beverage runner and they see each other so often before and during shifts, he doesn’t say anything meaningful and it bothers Yuri so damn much.

Everything he does say is work-related. He’ll ask him to check the bar inventory, or bring up some simple syrup, or open a crate of some random drink, but other than that, not a single word.

That’s why when Otabek pulls up on his motorcycle while Yuri stands on the sidewalk after work staring at his empty wallet (no cash, no Metrocard, no nothing) to save his broke ass, Yuri’s first instinct is to yell at him.

“The fuck? You don’t even talk to me and now you show up like a fucking knight in shining armor? Asshole,” Yuri says and gets on the bike. He then transitions into Russian and grumbles a bit more.

Otabek doesn’t reply. He turns in his seat to hand Yuri a helmet. Only when Yuri puts in on his head and tucks the strap under his chin does he speak.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Otabek says. “Where do you live?”

Yuri really should be thanking him because no one else was there. Everyone else already left and Yuri was all alone on the empty street with no plan to get home. He probably would have jumped the turnstile to take the train home, but Otabek was there to swoop in and save the day wearing his leather jacket and his gray scarf over his bartender attire.

Yuri doesn’t thank him. He just tells him his home address and that’s all he gets to say before the roar of the motorcycle kicks in and makes it too loud for any kind of verbal communication. Yuri stops talking and keeps his arms around Otabek to steady himself.

Later Otabek does speak and it’s awfully timed because it’s right when Yuri decides that he does want to thank Otabek after all. Otabek says something about what Yuri said in Russian while he was still grumbling an hour ago. He tells Yuri that he isn’t fluent in Russian, he’s Kazakh actually, but he knows some.

“I didn’t catch everything you said,” Otabek says.

Yuri thanks God that he didn’t because he said a ton of expletives in Russian.

“But,” Otabek continues, “I assumed it was a string of unkind comments about me.”

Yuri blushes so much he thinks he actually fumes.

Otabek gauges Yuri’s reaction and chuckles a bit. He doesn’t seem mad. Yuri swears under his breath and decides that he cannot deal with this man. He abruptly thanks Otabek and then turns around to sprint to his building.

* * *

 

The following night, Yuri accepts Mila’s invitation to go to the bar across the street to party after work. He wants to prevent what happened the night before from happening again. Yuri knows that Otabek won’t be there, so he agrees to go because it’s a good way to avoid him.

When Yuri leaves after closing and walks into the bar, he sees the person he hates most: JJ. JJ is already hammered, his arm wrapped around a woman with dark hair and blue eyes, who is also drunk, probably less than JJ is.

“Yuri!” JJ shouts in his face.

Yuri clenches his jaw because he is going deaf due to the loud music and the people talking, and of course JJ has to make it worse by screaming, even though Yuri is literally right in front of him.

“This is my fiance, Isabella,” he says, grinning like an idiot. His words are slurred. “We’re getting married!”

Yuri looks at the ring on Isabella’s hand. “I can see that.”

JJ laughs, hearty and merry. Isabella smiles at her fiance and giggles too. It’s way too gross for Yuri.

Suddenly JJ slumps, falls over, and hits the ground.

“Dumbass,” Yuri says and walks away to find Mila.

Mila sits at the bar with Sara, Michele, and Emil. She lights up when Yuri joins them. It’s a long, fun night. They dance, drink, laugh, sing.

Mila corners Yuri at some point and hugs him so tight that he almost can’t breathe. She’s abnormally strong, even when she’s drunk.

Yuri huffs. “What’s wrong with you, hag? Let go.”

Mila loosens her hold on him but keeps her arms where they are. She sighs. “I’m so lonely, Yura.”

“The fuck do you mean? Go dance with the others or get with some random dude.”

Mila sighs again, then pulls away. She leans against the wall and looks off into the distance. Yuri follows her eyes and sees that she’s focusing on a spot across the room, where Sara and Emil are making out.

“Gross.” Yuri turns to Mila who is very obviously heartbroken and he scowls. “Are you serious? Forget them.”

He grabs Mila’s arm and drags her away, stomping to a hallway where she won’t be able to see their disgusting co-workers. There they share a bottle of beer and continue to dance, but they also talk. Yuri learns that Mila sings and acts, wants to be a performer on Broadway, and has a major crush on Sara. Yuri tells her that he’s a dancer who’s just trying to make a living in the city by working at the restaurant on the side.

“Yea, a lot of us are just doing this to make money,” Mila says. “Michele’s a playwright and Seung-gil’s an amazing painter. But not Lilia, though. Chef, too. Their lives revolve around the restaurant.”

* * *

 

It’s the first truly wintry day of the year. The temperature is low and the strong winds make the morning cold even worse. Yuri isn’t exactly rich and doesn’t have a proper winter coat. He is surprised that he actually makes it to work alive. The restaurant is so toasty and comforting that Yuri is immediately glad that he got there early.

It was something that Lilia drilled into him on the first few days. The one time she acknowledged him, she told him never to be late because there was absolutely no excuse. Every person is needed at the restaurant. One person missing and service falls apart.

Yuri is glad he listened to her. Now he gets to spends more time here, rather than at home with the shitty, practically nonexistent heating.

“The restaurant is always kept cozy during the winter,” Viktor told him. “It is holiday season, and we wouldn’t be doing our jobs if the restaurant is not warm and welcoming. Guests will be pleased to escape the cold wind, take off their heavy coats, and enjoy a delicious hot meal with us.”

Sounded like the nonsense about hospitality that Viktor always babbles on and on about, but now Yuri realizes that he is eternally grateful for the warmth of the restaurant.

Yuri rushes to the coffee station and makes himself a latte to warm up. He needs it to wake up as well.

Mila walks in and greets Yuri with a hug that he doesn’t return. She eyes the coffee mug in his hands and asks him to make her one too.

“Show me that your barista training went well,” she says.

Yuri hates her but despite this he goes to the espresso machine and prepares the drink for her. Mila is extremely pleased because one, Yuri actually did it for her, and two, it was a damn good latte; Yuri made sure of it.

They sit together at the bar and watch their co-workers enter the restaurant with runny noses and chattering teeth. No one looks as bad as JJ though and it deeply satisfies Yuri. JJ has furrowed brows and keeps complaining about his headache. He wails, and bitches, and moans, which also annoys Yuri but he’s still semi-happy to see JJ suffer.

JJ can’t stand straight, much less sit straight. He slumps in his chair with his head in his hands. He sits at the restaurant’s bar, which is ironic because too much drinking was what got him in this state in the first place. Some of the others are there to try to help JJ, offering remedies that JJ refuses to try. Yuri stays there to watch. He can almost say that he’s enjoying this too much.

When Otabek walks in, JJ immediately yells his name and begs him to come over. Yuri’s eyes widen and he wonders what JJ wants from Otabek.

Otabek approaches the bar and JJ reaches out to him. Yuri immediately wants to kill him.

“I need some pills. Please,” JJ says. “I’m not going to make it through this dinner shift without them.”

Otabek glances at JJ and that’s all it takes, because JJ’s hangover is obvious.

“I’ll do anything,” JJ adds.

Otabek tells him that he’ll bring them over to him later.

* * *

 

JJ walks into the kitchen wearing his cooking attire and looking better than he did before. The pills must have been a miracle because now he is able to walk properly. He approaches Yuri and Mila where they sit at one of the kitchen counters and chat.

“What do you two want to eat?” JJ says. “Otabek’s making me cook something for him and for you two since he helped me out with the pills.” 

Mila perks up at this, excited. Right at that moment, Otabek walks into the kitchen and takes a seat next to Mila. She immediately turns to him.

“You didn’t have to,” she says, beaming.

Otabek shrugs. His expression doesn’t change.

JJ snaps his fingers at Mila to get her attention. “Hey. Don’t choose anything too complicated, okay? I still feel like shit.”

Mila dismisses his comment with the wave of her hand. “Come on, I wouldn’t do that. I’m not evil. I’ll just have eggs benedict with lox.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, wait,” Mila says, and JJ groans. His shoulders drop and Yuri swears he sees the slightest smirk on Otabek’s face.

“And toast with that lemon cardamom honey Chef made yesterday,” Mila adds. Her smile grows wider.

“You know, I’m not supposed to use Yakov’s stuff—“

“JJ, a deal is a deal. You said you’d make anything.”

JJ sighs. “Okay. Fine.”

When Mila is satisfied she turns to Yuri and so does JJ.

“What about you?” JJ says. When Yuri doesn’t reply, he adds, “Everything I make is delicious so there’s really no going wrong here. Just pick something.”

“I’m good,” Yuri says. No way is he going to eat something that JJ puts together.

“Are you sure?” Mila asks. Even Otabek raises his eyebrows.

“JJ is a cook here for a reason,” Mila says. “Viktor doesn’t hire novices. He can really make anything you’d like.”

Yuri considers this for a second, then makes his decision.

“Pirozhki,” he says.

JJ rolls his eyes but accepts his fate and leaves them to start making their food.

Mila laughs. “JJ’s going to cry.”

“Good choices,” Otabek says, then gets out of his chair.

“See you later,” Mila says.

Yuri turns to Mila as Otabek heads to the bar to prep.

“Why is he being nice to us?” Yuri asks her.

Mila blinks at him. “JJ owes him for the pills.”

“I know that,” Yuri hisses. “But why did he tell him to cook something for us too?”

“He did it torture JJ,” Mila says. She laughs when Yuri’s eyes widen. “Otabek’s got a mischievous side too, Yura. I mean he can’t make JJ cook for the entire staff, but he’ll make JJ work more for those pills.”

“Why did he choose us?”

“Otabek and I are good friends. He’s always such a gentleman,” Mila says with hands clasped and a dreamy look in her eyes. “And as for you, it must be because you’re so adorable.”

Mila wraps her arms around Yuri and rocks him side to side. He rolls his eyes and accepts the hug.

“You’re coming again tonight, right?” Mila asks when she finally pulls away.

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Yuri has to admit that JJ does know what he is doing. He pulls a bowl of yeast dough from a refrigerator, then gets started on the pirozhki. JJ’s follows a similar recipe to Yuri’s grandfather’s. As Yuri watches him, he realizes that even their movements are similar while preparing the food, except JJ is younger and doesn’t having aching bones like his grandfather does, so he gets it done in less time.

JJ rolls out the dough into uniform circles while the meat and cabbage filling cooks in the pan. While the frying oil heats up on the stove, JJ wraps the individual pirozhki in deft, practiced motions. When they are done frying and cooling, JJ slides the plate of golden-brown pirozhki across the counter to Yuri.

Mila eyes the plate. “You’ll share with me, right Yura?”

Yuri pulls his food closer to himself and begins eating without waiting for her to get her food. It’s delicious, fried perfectly. The bread is fluffy and chewy, the meat is well-seasoned, and it reminds Yuri of his grandfather back in Russia more than he expected it to. Yuri doesn’t cry. He stuffs his face with pirozhki instead. Reluctantly, he offers Mila one, who beams at his generosity.

Mila takes a bite and closes her eyes. “It’s so good.”

Her eggs benedict doesn’t take too long. JJ’s made the dish millions of times before. It is probably one of the most ordered dishes by city people who laugh over drinks at brunch and force smiles all day long with perfectly white teeth because they have money. The toast is simple as well and a lot less pretentious. JJ just had to sneak some of Chef’s honey onto the bread. Then he slides both plates toward Mila, who thanks him.

The eggs benedict has beautiful layers of spinach, onion, lox, and it’s topped with the poached eggs and pale yellow hollandaise sauce and fresh herbs. The toast with honey is served with sliced berries on the side.

“Eat it quickly,” JJ says to Mila, looking over his shoulder. “If Yakov finds out, I’m dead.”

He looks her in the eyes, the most serious Yuri has ever seen him. Mila nods, then JJ leaves them.

Mila turns to Yuri and pushes the toast toward him. “Try it, Yura.”

“Are you sure?” Yuri asks. Mila hasn’t even had a bite of it yet.

“Yes,” she says earnestly. “Go ahead.”

The honey is something else. The cardamom makes the difference, elevates the toast with its fragrance and its intense flavor. Yuri understands why Yakov would make his own batch of this and keep it to himself.

While Mila and Yuri dig into the eggs benedict, Otabek returns to the kitchen to watch JJ prepare his dish.

“What did you ask him to make?”

“A pancake souffle.”

“What the fuck’s a pancake souffle?”

JJ expertly separates the egg whites and yolks, then makes the meringue. Next he sifts the dry ingredients, then mixes in the rest of the ingredients. He folds the meringue into the batter, then pours it into a sugar-coated ramekin. While the souffle is in the oven, JJ uses maple syrup to make a glaze and a maple whipped cream. Finally when it finishes baking, JJ uses a spoon to make an indent in the souffle, scoops the maple cream into and over the hole, and tops it off with the maple syrup glaze and a dusting of powdered sugar.

Otabek practically drools before he digs in.

* * *

 

Yuri finds himself always peering over his shoulder during shifts. His eyes follow Lilia, no matter where she is in the dining area. He doesn’t let it affect his work. He pays attention to what he is doing, whether it’s setting tables, refilling water, or running beverages, but he takes note of Lilia’s behavior because if he wants to become a server like her, instead of just a back waiter, he needs to be like her.

Lilia handles guests like this: warm greetings, appropriate meal suggestions, wine pairing recommendations, lengthy, detailed, and accurate wine introductions, lively chatter and conversation, a personalized dining experience. She keeps careful track of the regulars and takes note of birthdays, anniversaries, and any other special occasions, so that when they return to the restaurant on those days to celebrate, she will be prepared with a gift: a particular wine, dessert, or dish that they especially enjoyed. Lilia forgets nothing, makes no mistakes, not a single slip-up. And it pays off: plenty of the regulars request to dine with her as their server, and she has a lofty tip average as well.

“What matters is kindness and hospitality,” Viktor said during another one of his ramblings. “Elegance and efficiency, too, but what guests want most is to feel like they’re being taken good care of.”

Yuri has elegance and efficiency. As a dancer with thin and graceful limbs, he practices and disciplines himself to be an admired beauty. But being patient and looking out for these needy children in adult bodies is a challenge, especially with his short fuse.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri feels his eyes twitching.

Stupid flowers. Stupid decorations. Stupid holidays. Who the fuck needs to hang cookies decorated to look like porcelain on Christmas tree? Last time Yuri checked, cookies are not ornaments. Food is not meant to be a decoration, food is meant for _eating_ , and this is a restaurant for fuck’s sake.

And yet this stupid girl flits around the restaurant, putting up tinsel, bringing in floral arrangements to replace the ones from the previous season. The new flowers come in very light hues on the verge of having no color at all: pale pink chrysanthemums and earl grey roses. The tinsel and wreaths hang on the walls with pastries strewn in them and god, it is just far too extra for words.

Pointless as the job is, the flower girl keeps returning every several weeks to change the floral arrangements and other decorations. On this day she wears her dark brown hair in braids and stands in front of the bar, batting her eyelashes at Otabek. She leans forward and not-so-casually rests her hand on his forearm and Yuri wants to explode. He wishes she would just do her job and transform the restaurant into a fucking winter wonderland shitstorm. He tells himself that he would stomp over there and tear her hand away--solely because she is supposed to be doing her job, not because she is very openly flirting with the bartender--but unfortunately Yuri is stuck with Viktor, listening to another one of his rants. Whatever. It’s no big deal. Besides, Yuri is determined to ignore Otabek anyways and acting on his jealousy would clash with his mission to not give a fuck.

“It is essential that during holiday season we treat our guests the best we can, and these decorations set the appropriate atmosphere,” Viktor says.

Yuri gives Viktor a long glare from the sides of his eyes. He is almost certain Viktor suffers from some brain damage. That, or he is far older than he claims to be.

To Yuri’s dismay, Viktor continues to ramble.

“After all, they are here with family, friends, loved ones, and they want to have mind-blowing, life-changing meals with us. So, break out the best bottles of wine, even if they don’t ask for it up front. Suggest the perfect pairing for their meals and they will thank you for it in the end because you truly will improve their dining experience _that_ much. Remember it is empirical to--” Viktor stops mid-sentence in his boring lecture and switches to a cooing tone when Katsudon comes into view. “Yuuri! Come here, I have…”

Yuri stops listening right then and there. He immediately grumbles under his breath and storms off to the lockers to find Mila in order to get the flower girl’s name, address, and bank account information, but to his astonishment, he finds Lilia instead.

Lilia, standing tall right before him. Her high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, green eyes, and black mascara, all seeming to work in accordance to make her neutral expression a fierce, beautiful glare.

Lilia isn’t looking behind him, nor is she on her way to find someone else. She looks directly at him. Yuri is utterly confused for a second, because he can’t see why she is paying him any attention, but then Lilia greets him by his name.

“Yuri,” she says. “You run beverages.”

It is a statement, not a question, but Yuri still answers.

“Yes.”

Lilia folds her hands together. “Then you must know that the holidays are a very important time for wine. But you know nothing about wine, do you?”

And so begins the apprenticeship of sorts.

Yuri gradually dedicates more of his hours to spend with Lilia and study because god, there is a lot to learn about wines.

This translates into less time spent at home looking after his cat or dancing or doing what the fuck ever, more time before the restaurant opened spent sitting at empty tables and drinking wine with Lilia and Seung-gil. Sometimes they sit at the bar and Otabek is there, pouring their drinks for them, but Yuri ignores him and focuses on being a good pupil.

Lilia presents bottle after bottle to Yuri, announces their names, tells him to inspect the labels. She holds the glasses under his nose, tells him to inhale the essence of the wine and exhale a prepared commentary about the wine’s origins, attributes, and quirks. Lilia and Seung-gil are masters at this, and when Yuri asks them how they knew so much, they point him towards the world atlas of wine.

Later that week in a bookstore, Yuri finds himself staring blankly at a book large enough to be a tombstone. Fitting because Yuri thinks for a second he might actually want to die. The atlas is too large to fit comfortably against his forearm and it is heavy on his arms, but still, he marches out of the bookstore lugging it.

Yuri stops going out with Mila and the others now that his time is split between work, studying wines, and dance.

He sits in his room reading the tiny print and poring over the countless detailed maps of the world of wine. He has no bed in his apartment so he sits cross-legged on his mattress on the cold floor. His cat climbs onto his lap, peering curiously at the atlas. Yuri nudges Potya away and continues to read with the intent of absorbing every bit of vocabulary he can, because that is what being a wine expert is at the core: being able to describe the attributes of a wine (the hue, the aroma, the taste, the depth) with such impressive precision and accuracy that the guests instantly know that you are an expert.

When Yuri does find the time to dance, he practices moves he learned long ago, creates new ones, and tries to fit them together into a coherent sequence of movements. It never feels right though and that frustrates Yuri more than he’d like it to. It’s like he’s lost his flow, his originality. So he finds whatever auditions he can and practices those routines too. He needs the quick money, and he hopes that doing these routines choreographed by other people will help him find his movement again.

“Yura,” Mila says to him one day. They sit side by side at the counter in the kitchen, drinking their coffees during their break in between shifts. “I’m doing a show next Saturday and they need another dancer. Can you fill in the spot?”

Yuri is elated at first by the opportunity to perform and possibly earn money. Then he remembers his ongoing job studying wines. “I can’t.”

Mila detects the conflict in his voice. “Really?”

“I want to, but I have to learn the wines and--”

“Yura, it’s just one night,” she says, taking his hands in hers and looking him in his eyes. “Please? I really want you there. It’ll be fun to work on something together, you know?”

Yuri gives in. “Ugh, fine, old hag.”

Mila beams, and Yuri finds himself smiling too because it’s been a while since he last performed on stage, and deep inside he is relieved to be dancing again.

* * *

 

Another part of the apprenticeship is studying the guests. An apprenticeship is the passing along of detailed knowledge to the apprentice after all, and there is a lot to be learned about the guests who dine with them night after night.

Every day whenever he has time, Yuri shadows Lilia and learns as much as he can.

He follows Lilia up the staircase to the mezzanine dining area. Her perfect posture breaks for a moment when she leans on the railing and peers down at the guests eating at their tables and then points out each notable guest and gives Yuri a rundown of who they are and why they matter. She does this in no particular order and jumps from table to table, explaining one person’s scandalous love affairs, another person’s directionless life, and so on. Lilia is an expert. She has memorized their favorite meals, their dietary restrictions, their addictions and their guilty pleasures. She knows names, birthdays, family members, exactly where they are in the social hierarchy, what position they hold at their jobs.

Yuri is amazed by her ability to memorize all of this, but then he remembers that he doesn’t have the time to be amazed and instead focuses on retaining the information. He needs to know these people by heart in order to provide them stupendous service and get promoted at the restaurant to a proper server.

He walks behind Lilia who carries a bottle of wine she asked Yuri to retrieve for her earlier. Yuri had a difficult time finding said bottle in the cellar. He searched for minutes before cursing and desperately wanting to kick something (but he couldn’t because the wine was too precious and glass was fragile). Right when Yuri was tugging at his hair and about to lose his mind, Otabek waltzed in. Upon seeing the bartender, Yuri rolled his eyes. Of all people who could have walked in, of course it had to be this guy. It was just his luck. He immediately directed his anger to Otabek, who was just as shocked to see Yuri. The first thing Yuri did was shout, then he insulted him quite weakly because honestly, it was too difficult to insult someone so perfect. When he was done yelling, Yuri sighed, extremely frustrated with himself because he was acting like such a idiot. He liked Otabek, okay, but Yuri treats him so awfully, and Yuri’s been ignoring him, and the first thing Yuri did when he encountered him again was scream at him. Yep. He definitely blew all chances of being with Otabek. Yuri could feel the tears forming in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he willed himself not to cry.

Otabek, who up until that point remained silent, did not fight back. He didn’t argue, didn’t yell, didn’t even raise his voice one bit. He stood there, his shoulders and exposed forearms and his skin looking gorgeous in the cellar lighting. Then he helped Yuri find the wine he came down here for in the first place as if Yuri hadn’t been yelling at him a minute ago. It made Yuri feel even more guilty.

When he handed the wine with the Australian label to Yuri, Yuri spoke, this time in his normal, not angry voice.

“Why are you here?” Yuri asked.

“Someone was being careless and broke a glass,” Otabek started to say slowly. “So I came down here for a bandage.”

Yuri carefully placed the bottle on the floor when Otabek raised his hand out for Yuri to see. There was a cut on his palm. Not deep, but still there was blood on it, red like wine.

Otabek was so calm, whereas Yuri was alarmed by the news. Secretly he felt an urge to find the person who did this and drop kick them. It was probably JJ.

Yuri let go of Otabek’s hand and headed over the the first aid cabinet. He returned to Otabek with an antiseptic wipe and an appropriately sized bandage. Everything was quiet while Yuri cleaned the wound and gently pressed the bandage over Otabek’s skin. It’s a sobering moment.

Without looking at him, Yuri mumbled an apology to Otabek, and then picked up the wine and returned up the stairs to find Lilia.

“What took you so long?” she asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yuri says.

Lilia moves on, ignoring Yuri’s moody reply as they approach table 14. She presents the special wine and the dining couple is absolutely amazed by the surprise. Their hands splayed over their chests as a gesture to show how touched they are, they compliment Lilia’s outstanding memory. The wine is imported from Australia, a memory of their honeymoon spent exploring lush gardens, beautiful waters, and mesmerizing landscapes. It’s their tenth anniversary and Lilia makes it extra special for the couple.

Yuri would be grossed out by the beaming smiles and joyous laughter and the literal tears of happiness, but he finds that he can’t be upset, annoyed, or angered while he watches the couple dine. He hopes that someday when he finds someone right to love, when they start to grow old together, someone will look after him and care and remember all the precious details, just like Lilia does for this couple.

* * *

 

One day while the restaurant preps for the night ahead, Mila does one of the dumbest things Yuri has ever seen. She marches into the kitchen, determined to disrupt the entire space. She steps up and stands on a counter. Immediately, everyone freezes to glare at the idiot who decided to break the sacred rule and dirty a kitchen surface with their feet. The cooks stop stirring, mixing, tasting; the pastry chefs cease folding, sifting, decorating; the dishwashers pause scrubbing, drying, polishing. All eyes are on Mila.

Yuri hisses under his breath and prays that she hears. “Mila, what the actual fuck? I swear to god if the health inspector walks in right now Chef Yakov will fucking fire your ass.”

Mila ignores him and announces to the entire kitchen staff that her show is now playing and that they should all see her perform.

“It's at the Merlin Theater! Tickets are still available. Don't look at me like that Mickey I know you don't have plans on Saturday. Pull up! And JJ I know Isabel loves--”

Before she can go on, Yakov cuts her off.

“Are you kidding me? You interrupt us only to advertise for your show? You idiot! Get the fuck out of my kitchen and stop wasting my time!” he barks.

Mila hops off the counter and someone immediately rushes to the spot to clean the counter.

Yuri speed walks out of the kitchen and Mila follows.

“Mila. You are so fired,” he says.

He is sure that Viktor will order Mila to his office after work and Mila will leave the room without a job. And then Yuri thinks about how awful working here would be without her here and gets even more upset.

But to his confusion, she prances out with a smile. “Don’t worry. Yakov likes me.”

“Gross,” he says, suddenly forgetting his anger.

Mila laughs. “No, not like that, Yura. Likes me like a daughter.”

“That doesn't make it sound better at all.”

“Bottom line is, I'm not going to get fired, and now people know about the show. You want people to see you perform, right?”

“I guess.”

That was a big lie. He practiced way too often and sacrificed too much sleep for his performance to go by unnoticed. He needs people there to see him.

“Well people will definitely be there to watch you on Saturday now that everyone at the restaurant knows that--oh wait, hang on we forgot…”

Mila’s sentence dies off abruptly and before Yuri can ask her why, Mila has already left his side and ran to who knows where.

Yuri glances around the restaurant, searching for her. His eyes spot her and his heart stops when he sees her at the bar talking to Otabek, undoubtedly already convincing the guy to see the show.

Yuri curses everyone at the restaurant because they all seem to want to thwart his mission to ignore Otabek. Saturday is going to be a difficult day to get through.


End file.
